ODE FOR ON MUSIC ST. CECILIA'S DAY. I. DESCEND, ye Nine! descend, and fing; The breathing instruments inspire, Wake into voice each filent string, Let the warbling lute complain: The fhrill echoes rebound: While, in more lengthen'd notes and flow, Hark! the numbers foft and clear Now louder, and yet louder rife, And fill with fpreading founds the skies; The strains decay, And melt away, In a dying, dying fall. 10 15 20 By II. By Mufic, minds an equal temper know, Warriors fhe fires with animated founds; Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds; Melancholy lifts her head, Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes, III. But when our Country's cause provokes to Arms, How martial mufic every bofom warms! 25 30 35 So when the firft bold veffel dar'd the feas, High on the stern the Thracian rais'd his strain, 40 45 But IV. But when through all th' infernal bounds, Love, ftrong as Death, the Poets led What founds were heard, What scenes appear'd, O'er all the dreary coasts ! Dreadful gleams, Difmal fcreams, Fires that glow, Sullen moans, Hollow groans, And cries of tortur'd ghofts! But hark! he strikes the golden lyre; See, fhady forms advance! Thy ftone, O Sifyphus, ftands ftill, And the pale spectres dance! The Furies fink upon their iron beds, 50 55 60 65 And snakes uncurl'd hang listening round their heads. V. By the ftreams that ever flow, By the fragrant winds that blow O'er the Elysian flowers; Or Amaranthine bowers; 75 By |